


If I Lose to Myself

by MotherOfBeardedDragons



Series: Clint Barton Bingo 2019 [1]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of brainwashing, Clint Barton Bingo, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton is a BAMF, Depression, Gen, Happy Ending, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers (2012), Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, The Avengers Are Good Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-10-26 12:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherOfBeardedDragons/pseuds/MotherOfBeardedDragons
Summary: After being brainwashed by Loki, Clint finds himself unable to escape from the guilt and depression that has been overwhelming him. So he's not surprised when he finds himself on a bridge about to jump.But thanks to the quick actions of his team he finds himself alive but still lost. He must rely on his teammates for support as he struggles to pull himself out of the darkness and depression that has been his constant companion since New York.





	1. You Won't Mourn A Day

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to use this as a square on my Clint Barton bingo card! It fits perfectly for the "missing scene" square since it deals with the aftermath of New York and Loki's brainwashing that we aren't shown. 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: Description of attempted suicide, descriptions of depression, somewhat graphic descriptions of self-harm (hence the "graphic descriptions of violence tag"), panic attacks, nightmares, and discussion of anti-depressants and therapy. 
> 
> This fic. deals with heavy stuff, please don't read this if it could cause you pain (physical or mental). This isn't written as a glorification of suicide or depression, but a story about overcoming it and living with it. It's a story about friendship and strength. But make sure you're in a good place before reading. See end notes for more details. 
> 
> Title is from the song "Neon Gravestones" by Twenty One Pilots. It's an amazing song and they're an awesome band.

 Content Warnings for this chapter: Suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, discussion of suicide, and depression.   

   Clint Barton stood with the wind whipping around him, taking in the view. He was no stranger to heights, he preferred them actually. He felt better higher up where he could survey everything; he was less likely to be ambushed and surprised when he had the high ground. He looked down at the water churning below. He figured it was probably about 300 feet; more than enough to kill him. That was why he was standing at the top of a bridge in the freezing cold at one in the morning. There were no cars or bystanders; just silence. He could see the stars shining above and the lights of the city in the distance. He about bringing his bow with him or maybe stopping for a last meal at his favorite pizza joint. But he decided it was better to just quietly disappear. No sentiment, no drama, just a quick death.

   He knew death from jumping wasn’t picturesque or peaceful. Bones broke, organs burst, and if you didn’t die from the impact you died from hemorrhaging or drowning. Hopefully he’d be knocked unconscious.

   He had considered all the other methods, but none seemed as fitting. He had seen too much blood in his lifetime so he knew he didn't want to cut his wrists. He thought it'd be ironic if he shot himself with a gun, and there wasn't a good way to do it with his bow. He could let himself get killed in battle, but he didn't want the team to witness his death. He had been nearly strangle before and knew he didn't want to hang himself. That left pills or jumping. Pills could fail, he could throw up or mess up the dose. He could get poison, but that would be a pain in the ass. He figured heights were his best option. He had climbed to the highest point on the bridge. He wanted to make sure he had enough height to make his death certain and didn’t trust jumping from the pedestrian path.

   He knew he should be nervous or guilty or scared. But he wasn’t. He was just relieved. No more nightmares in which all of the faces of the agents he killed flashed before him, no more crushing guilt, no more fear that his mind wasn’t really his own. He had been cleared by SHIELD to return to work, but there was no telling what could happen with his head. He could snap one day and hurt more people. That’s why he was doing this- to protect others. And to relieve his suffering. He hated that he was quitting and he hated leaving Natasha behind. But she was tough, she’d be ok without him. And he had fought long and hard until now. It was time to take the leap.

   Clint took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline pumping through his body, and jumped. He was familiar with the feeling of falling- throughout his career he had fallen a number of times. He knew the bizarre feeling of weightlessness and the icy adrenaline shooting to your extremities. He closed his eyes. The feeling of falling was suddenly interrupted by a crushing impact. He hit something hard, knocking his breath from his body and making his vision going black. Somewhere in his muddled thoughts he knew it was too soon- he hadn’t been falling long enough. He hadn’t hit the water. Everything went completely black as he tried to figure out what the hell happened.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Natasha quickly ran down the hall as she tried to quell the growing sense of panic. She had to focus right now, she could let herself fall apart later. She had told JARVIS the moment she realized something was wrong; she only hoped they weren’t too late. She nearly collided with Steve in the common room.

   “Where’s Stark?,” Natasha asked, surprised at how calm her voice sounded.

   “He just left. He said he’d check in with us when he was in flight,” Steve stated. He had gotten an urgent alert from JARVIS about five minutes ago, waking him up. Any feelings of drowsiness had been immediately swept away by JARVIS’ words. Clint was in danger. From what he had gathered Tony had already been awake working in his lab and had immediately gotten one of his suits.

   “What’s going on? JARVIS only had time to tell me the basics,” Steve asked. He was surprised to see Natasha like this. She looked calm on the outside, but he could tell she was distracted and unfocused. She had nearly plowed into him a minute ago; that was highly unusual for her. She was always hyper aware of her surroundings.

   Natasha took a breath. “I knew something was wrong for a while. I just didn’t know it was this wrong. I found a note.”

   “From Clint,” Steve stated, knowing where this was going.

   Natasha nodded. “He was supposed to be home from the mission around midnight. He wasn’t answering his phone so I decided to call SHIELD and see if they were delayed. They told me the team had gotten back on time and that he had left HQ. Clint always comes straight back after a mission and if not he’d let me know, or at least answer his phone. I went to his room and found the note.”

   “Natasha,” Steve asked gently, “what did it say?”

   “He said he can’t live with the guilt and he’s going to end it all. He said he was sorry,” Natasha replied shakily.

   “We’re not going to let that happen.”

   “We might be too late.”

   “Or not.” The two looked up at the screen that had appeared. Tony was in the suit addressing them. “I found him.”

   “Where is he?,” Steve asked. He wasn’t sure how Stark managed to find him so quickly, but he was glad.

   “Don’t freak out, but he’s on top of a bridge,” Tony replied. Steve and Natasha could tell he was focused.

   “How far away are you?,” Natasha asked.

   “About 500 feet,” Tony replied.

   “Sir, it appears Mr. Barton is about to jump,” JARVIS warned.

   “On it. Prepare to intercept,” Tony commanded.

   Steve and Natasha stood in silence. Natasha felt a cold feeling of dread wash over her. They might be too late.

   They watched as Tony seemed to speed up then the display shook.

   “Got him,” Tony said breathlessly.

   Steve and Natasha both sighed.

   “Is he ok?,” Natasha asked, sitting down heavily.

   “His vitals are stable. He appears to be unconscious and has minor injuries from the impact,” JARVIS informed them.  

   “Impact?,” Steve asked.

   “He jumped. I had to swoop in and catch him. I tried to be careful, but I still hit him pretty hard,” Tony explained, concern for their teammate evident in his voice.

   “You did a good job Tony,” Steve replied, “he’s alive.”

   “We’re on our way to the hospital right now. We should be there in about three minutes. I’ll have JARVIS send you directions.”

   “We’ll be there.”

   Steve quickly got changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and met Natasha in the garage. They climbed into one of Stark’s less flashy cars and headed towards the hospital. The two sat in silence for a minute before Steve finally spoke up.

   “It’s not your fault.”

   Natasha just looked at him, one eyebrow slightly raised.

   “I know you’re thinking it. I am too. I should have seen how bad it was. I should have been there for him. Should have known. We can’t blame ourselves,” Steve continued.

   “It’s true,” Natasha replied. “The signs were all there. I just didn’t want to believe he’d actually do it.”

   “Natasha. Clint is an agent and spy. He’s an expert in hiding his feelings and lying when he needs to. He convinced everyone that he was doing better than he really was,” Steve said sadly.

   “I’m an agent too. I’m supposed to be an expert in reading people and seeing behind their bullshit. But I managed to miss all the signs my best friend was going to kill himself,” Natasha said in frustration, her emotions emerging.

   “We saved him. And we’re here for him now. Now we know how he feels and he can’t lie about it anymore. We’re going to help him through this,” Steve said in determination. Clint may have been able to hide what he was going through and try to deal with it on his own before, but not anymore. Now he was going to have the team by his side.

   Natasha finally nodded. She knew it was no use blaming herself for not knowing what Clint had been planning. It wouldn't help him, so all she could do was be here for him now. They had saved him. She couldn’t let herself think of what would have happened if they had been too late. She needed to think about the present and how they were going to get through this.

   A minute later the two of them had parked the car and met Tony in the lobby. He was wearing jeans and a band t-shirt. His hair was disheveled and he looked stressed out. Tony tried to put on a confident expression when he saw them approach.

   “They took him back. Initial report seems pretty good,” Tony informed them.

   “Tony, thank you,” Natasha said. There weren’t really words to express how grateful she was.

   “Of course,” Tony replied. He knew anyone on the team would do whatever it took to keep each other safe. He was just grateful he got there in time. He hated how close it had been. Just one more minute and they would have lost him. He shook his head, trying to chase away those thoughts and focus on the fact that Clint was ok instead.

   The three sat down anxiously in a corner of the waiting room.  

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Clint slowly felt himself return to consciousness. Things were still hazy and he wasn’t sure where he was or what was going on. From the pain in his body and the smell of antiseptic he figured he was in a hospital, so he had probably been injured on a mission- it was a pretty common occurrence. The ringing in his ears lessened and he was able to make out the faint sounds of conversation and the whirring and beeping of machines. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the light.

   “Welcome back.”

   He looked over to see Natasha.

   “Thanks,” he replied, still trying to get his bearings. The memories of the past day finally came back to him, rushing through his mind. The bridge. Jumping. The sudden impact then the darkness.

   “I take it you remember,” Natasha said, seeing Clint’s expression.

   “Yeah,” Clint replied quietly. It took a moment to sink in. He had tried to kill himself and failed. He knew he should be angry that he failed, or horrified that he had tried to commit suicide. But he was just so damn tired and it felt like everything hurt.

   “You have several bruised ribs, a sprained left wrist, and contusions. Mainly on your left side,” Natasha stated.

   “No concussion?,” Clint asked, surprised since he had been unconscious.

   “No. You didn’t hit your head. You passed out from the sudden deceleration.”

   The two sat in silence for a minute. Clint was still trying to wrap his mind around everything, still trying to figure out how he felt. He finally asked the question. “What happened?”

   “I was worried when you didn’t return from the mission, so I called to see if you were delayed and found out you had gotten done on time and left HQ. I knew something was wrong, so I had JARVIS alert Steve and Tony. Then I found the note,” Natasha explained calmly.

   But Clint knew better, he could see the emotions flashing behind her eyes. For once he didn’t know what to day. How do you tell the person you're closest to that you’re sorry you don’t want to live anymore and you’re sorry they had to be the one to find your suicide note?

   “Tony flew out and was able to track you to the bridge. He flew in and caught you and brought you straight here.”

   That was the sudden impact he had felt. He must have hit Tony pretty hard considering he was falling and Tony was flying in. That also explained why he was in a civilian hospital and not a SHIELD one- Tony had flown to the closest one. Not that he was complaining, he had had his fill of SHIELD hospitals and doctors in the last year.

   “They want to keep you 72 hours,” Natasha said after a minute.

   “I figured.” Clint knew they’d put him on a mandatory psych hold and suicide watch. It was probably a good thing.

   “I know you’re not up to it right now, and I don’t expect you to be. But we’ve got to talk about this,” Natasha said with concern.

   “I know,” Clint replied. He knew he owed her an explanation, an apology, something.

   “Steve and Tony are waiting in the lobby. I’d better go tell them you’re up and let one of them have a turn to visit.”

   Natasha was almost at the door when Clint spoke up. “Natasha. I’m...I’m sorry.”

   Natasha nodded. “It’s going to be ok. We’re all going to get through this.”

   Coming from anyone else, this statement would come across as some insincere platitude. But Natasha said it with a determination that left no doubt things were going to be ok, because she was going to fight for things to be ok. Clint only hoped her words were true. But he had doubts. He was afraid his mind was too broken for things to be ok.

   A little while later Tony entered the room. Clint could see the look of fear and seriousness behind his jokes and smiles.

   “You’d think when you’ve been flown in by Iron Man they’d give you a better room,” Tony remarked, taking in the Spartan surroundings.

   “The deluxe room with the mini bar probably had too many sharp pointy objects,” Clint replied.

   He knew the room he was in was designed specifically to have the least amount of potential weapons to use against himself. No window, no glass, the bed was bolted to the floor, there was no pillowcase, the monitor he was hooked up to was encased in plexiglass. They had taken his clothes leaving him in just a pair of thin papery scrubs. Most likely the room was being monitored.   

   “Yeah, about that. Are you still feeling like...you know..” Tony made an awkward throat slitting gesture. Clint could see Tony’s concern and knew that was why had had bluntly jumped right to the point. Clint couldn’t lie to him; not after what he had put them all through. He decided to be honest.

   “I don’t know if I’m glad you stopped me or not. But, I don’t actively want to attempt anything right now, no.”

   Tony nodded. He wasn’t entirely pleased at the answer, but he was glad Clint was being honest with him. He had hoped Clint would show regret and express appreciation for being saved. But he knew deep down that wasn’t realistic. Clint needed time to heal and he needed help. He was going to get help, whether he wanted it or not.

   Clint and Tony made some small talk, with Tony telling bawdy jokes to get a laugh out of Clint. Clint was surprised to see himself smile once or twice. But overall, he was still pretty out of it and found himself zoning out. Things just didn’t feel quite real to some degree.

   At some point Tony left and Clint found himself alone. A nurse came in and checked his vitals and took away the monitor since he was stable. The nurse was nice, and part of Clint wanted to engage with him and joke around, but he just felt so hollow. It took all of his energy to nod and answer questions and act like he was halfway functioning.

   For a while Clint lay on his side staring at the wall. He couldn’t think straight. He felt like the full impact of what he had done should be hitting him, but really he just felt tired and was in pain. His ribs and side was killing him; they had offered him some pain medication, but he had turned it down because his brain felt foggy enough right now. He was starting to regret that choice.

   He slowly turned over when he heard the door open and was surprised to see Steve enter.

   “Hey. You guys taking shifts?,” Clint asked.

   “They’ll only let one person back at a time,” Steve said, sitting in the chair by the bed.

   Right. That made sense.

   The two sat in silence for a while. Clint noticed it wasn’t an awkward or tense silence. Natasha had showed her support by laying down the facts, Tony by talking and cracking jokes, and Steve by just being there. He was there if Clint wanted to talk, and if not that was fine.

   “How’s Natasha doing?,” Clint asked after a while. That he had hurt her was probably what was bothering him the most.

   “She’s doing ok. She went back to the tower with Tony,” Steve replied.

   That was good. She shouldn’t have to stick around the hospital all night, Clint thought. It was good she went to get some rest. Except he still felt a small pang of sadness that Natasha had left him. Not that he blamed her at all.

   “She and Tony went back to the tower. And that’s where we’re going. They went to get things ready,” Steve stated.

   “Ready for what?,” Clint asked in confusion. Did Steve say that’s where _we’re_ going?

   “For you. You’re coming back to the tower.”

   “I’m pretty sure I’m on lock down.”

   “We made an agreement with the hospital. They’ll release you into our care with the assurance that you’ll be monitored at all times for the first few days and that you’ll seek treatment,” Steve explained.

   “The hospital agreed to that?,” Clint asked, surprised.

   “There’s some perks to being Captain America,” Steve replied with a small smile, “plus Tony donates a lot of money. It’s completely your choice though.”

   “I should just stay here. You don’t have time to babysit me,” Clint said. He’d much rather be in the tower than stuck in a hospital. But the team had more important things to do. Plus maybe it was better to be among strangers. He hated them seeing him like this and it was probably going to be a shitshow for a while.

   “You know you’d do the same for us and we’re not a team unless we have each other’s backs. Besides, we saved New York, it’s time to let someone else do some work,” Steve said with a shrug. It took all his willpower not to lecture Clint about how important he was to them. It hurt him to see how little Clint valued himself.

   Clint hesitated for a moment. He was lost. There was really no right or wrong way to do this. His mind might be beyond repair, but he could at least be among his friends.  

   “Ok,” Clint said after a moment. “Let’s go back to the tower.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A link to my [Clint Barton Bingo Card](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/post/183483152992/im-excited-to-take-part-in-the-clint-barton-bingo) on Tumblr! 
> 
> I just wanted to note that depression is different for every person. Each experience is unique and this depicts one possible experience from countless possibilities. Everyone experiences different feelings and symptoms. There is no "right" or "wrong" way to experience depression or mental illness. No one's mental illness is "not as bad" as someone else's just because their symptoms are different. 
> 
>  
> 
> ***If you're experiencing self-harm, depression, suicidal thoughts, mental illness, etc. Please please please reach out to someone. Someone you trust, family, friends, a doctor, an anonymous therapist, anyone who can help you. I promise you there are people who care about you.
> 
> [I'm on Tumblr!](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/)


	2. What's My Problem? Don't Get It Twisted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is back at the tower, trying to figure out where to go from here. Bruce and Tony open up to Clint about their own mental health struggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: Description of attempted suicide, descriptions of depression, somewhat graphic descriptions of self-harm (hence the "graphic descriptions of violence tag"), panic attacks, nightmares, and discussion of anti-depressants and therapy.
> 
> This fic. deals with heavy stuff, please don't read this if it could cause you pain (physical or mental). This isn't written as a glorification of suicide or depression, but a story about overcoming it and living with it. It's a story about friendship and strength. But make sure you're in a good place before reading.
> 
> As mentioned earlier, the main title (and chapter titles) are from the song "Neon Gravestones" by Twenty One Pilots. This is for the "missing scene" square on my Clint Barton Bingo card.

_Content Warning_ : This chapter specifically deals with panic attacks, mentions of suicide attempts, depression, mentions of PTSD, and nightmares. It also talks about therapists, medication, and medication side-effects.  

   The hardest part for Clint to adjust to was not being alone. He had been alone, other than Natasha, for most of his adult life and was used to the solitude. As part of the agreement for the next few days someone needed to be with him at all times. He had hoped that maybe Steve would be lax and have JARVIS watch him or something, but of course that wasn’t the case. 

   Captain America didn’t do anything half-assed, especially when it concerned the safety of someone he cared about. Steve organized a schedule to split the time between Natasha, Tony, Bruce, and himself. 

   Bruce had been staying at the tower and had been informed of the whole situation. He had been kind of upset about not being informed the night it all happened, but he understood them not wanting to throw him into a high stress situation and they were involving him now at least.

   Bruce and Tony would take the late shifts, since they were both night owls, and Natasha and Steve the day. 

   They got back to the tower around eight that night and Clint was already exhausted. He had been sent away with some pain meds (to be dispensed by Bruce) and with instructions that if the situation didn’t work out at the tower he was to be brought back to the hospital. 

   Steve had been given detailed instructions on finding a therapist and psychiatrist, watching for signs of suicidal thoughts and self-harm, and orders to not leave Clint alone for 72 hours (or until they felt he was safe). Steve had sent Tony and Natasha to the tower to remove anything hazardous from Clint’s room (weapons, razors, knives). Clint’s life was in their hands, and Steve would be damned if they let anything happen, because they had already almost lost him once. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Clint sat in the living room of his suite. He hadn’t lived in the tower long, but it had been starting to feel like home. He’d had apartments, places to crash, but never really something he’d call a home. The closest thing he’d had to a home had been the circus, and that had involved too much crime and murder to really be considered a home probably. 

   “How are you doing pain-wise?,” Bruce asked. 

   Right, Clint had zoned out again. Bruce was there to look him over. 

   “I’ve had worse,” Clint said with a shrug.

   “I don’t need to know about your previous pain, just what you’re feeling right now,” Bruce said patiently. Clint Barton was a stubborn patient, no surprises there. 

   “Not too bad. The ribs are the worst, but I know the drill,” Clint replied. He’d had plenty of bruised ribs in the past, he was just glad they weren’t broken.

   “Is it ok if I take a look?,” Bruce asked. 

   “Sure.” Clint shrugged. He had been examined at the hospital, but he knew Bruce was worried about him and that it’d make him feel better if he saw things for himself.

   Clint laid on his uninjured side as Bruce carefully pulled up his t-shirt. He heard the slight sharp inhale that Bruce failed to hide. 

   Clint’s whole side was covered in bruising, the pink and red colors already turning to a sickening bluish-purple. There were also some abrasions from hitting the metal of the suit. Bruce knew it had to hurt a lot. But he also knew Clint was no stranger to pain. 

   “I’ll get you some ice packs, that should help keep the swelling down,” Bruce said as he gently probed Clint’s ribs and side. 

   Clint inhaled sharply as the pressure turned into sharp jolts of pain. 

   “Sorry,” Bruce appologized, “it doesn’t seem like there’s too much inflammation, but I want to keep an eye on it. I can give you some anti-inflammatories if it gets worse.” 

   Clint nodded as Bruce replaced his shirt. Bruce asked JARVIS to send someone with some ice packs, since he couldn’t leave Clint alone.

   “I’d feel better if you’d take some pain medication. It doesn’t have to be something super strong,” Bruce stated. “I could do a high dose of acetaminophen. Just something to help manage the pain enough for you to rest.” 

   Bruce knew Clint didn’t like taking pain medication, and he had refused it so far.  He figured it probably had something to do with Clint’s training and the fear of strong pain meds clouding his mind. Bruce could understand, since he had never been a fan of taking strong pain medication either. 

   It was a testament to how much he was hurting that Clint agreed. He took the pills, two higher doses of tylenol, and Bruce helped set the ice packs over the bruising on his side. Clint sighed, feeling the cool start to numb some of the pain.   

   About an hour later Tony came to switch with Bruce, who told Clint he’d be back later. Tony tinkered with some sort of piece of equipment he had brought from his lab as Clint watched a random nature documentary on TV. He wasn’t completely paying attention to it, but at least it gave him something to look at. 

   Later Tony sat outside the door of the bathroom as Clint got ready for bed (he had that privacy at least). He was still physically and emotionally exhausted and just wanted to go to sleep. He noticed his razor was gone. He wasn’t feeling suicidal, he wasn’t feeling much of anything really, but it would have felt good to know that option was there as messed up as it sounded. 

   Clint settled into bed, playing a game on his phone to try to distract himself, glad that Tony wasn’t trying to make him talk. Tony was reading a book in a nearby chair. Clint played the mindless game and felt his eyes getting heavier.

   He didn’t really want to sleep, he knew what happened when he closed his eyes, but he soon nodded off. Murder, killing, blood. It felt wrong, like he was hurting the wrong people, but he couldn’t figure out why because there was a blue haze around his mind. He saw all of their faces, all of his fellow agents. And there was Natasha. They were fighting and he was choking her. Only this time she didn’t knock him out, this time he watched the life drain from her as she took her last breaths, his hands wrapped around her throat….

   “Clint! Wake up!”

   Clint opened his eyes, gasping. The covers were thrown halfway off the bed and he was covered in a cold sweat. His heart was racing. On instinct he looked for a nearby  weapon. 

   “Are you with me? You were having a nightmare.”

   He looked to the source of the voice and saw Tony. He was close enough to speak to Clint but far enough away to give him space and not get hurt if he lashed out. Smart. Last person to try to shake Clint awake ended up with a broken nose. 

   “Hey, how you doing? Are you back? You’re safe, you’re in the tower,” Tony continued talking. He of all people knew what it was like to wake up from a nightmare. 

   Clint felt a cold numbing sensation run through his body as his heart continued its frantic beat. He struggled for breath. He knew logically what was happening, he’d had panic attacks before, but not very many. And knowing what was happening did nothing to allay the feeling that he couldn’t breathe.  

   His chest tightened, his body felt cold, and he was shaking. He gasped for breath, tears forming unwillingly in his eyes. His lips felt numb. He felt an overwhelming rush of dread and fear as his mind struggled to form coherent thoughts. 

   “Ok, I know what’s happening. You’re ok,” Tony said, moving closer but still not touching Clint. “You’re having a panic attack. I get them sometimes. It sucks, but you’ll get through it. Try to take deeper breaths. Follow me.”

   Tony counted as he led Clint through deep breathing. After a few minutes, or what felt like hours for Clint, his breathing finally slowed. Clint looked a little more relaxed and the shaking had stopped. 

   “How are you doing?,” Tony asked. It seemed like he was coming out of it. 

   “I’m ok, sorry,” Clint replied. He would probably be more embarrassed about Tony seeing him like this if he weren’t so damn tired. 

   “Don’t be. Happens to the best of us. And by the best of us I mean me,” Tony said, grabbing a throw blanket off of a chair and carefully putting it over Clint’s shoulders. Clint nodded, thankful. 

   “Here, drink this. I’d offer you scotch, but I’ve been told that’s what’s called a ‘bad coping mechanism’,” Tony said, handing Clint a bottle of water. 

   Clint took the bottle in shaking hands and took a few sips. 

   “Look, you don’t have to talk about it. But, I get it. I still have nightmares about New York, and Afghanistan. But, I will say, and I never thought I’d be the one to say it- it does help to talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be right away, and it doesn’t even need to be a therapist. I started telling Pepper about my nightmares and it helped. I still get  them, but not as often, and when I do she knows what’s going on. So, that’s all I’m going to say on it. But, just take it from me, anxiety is a bitch and it helps to not be a stubborn ass and be willing to accept help. I wish I had sooner,” Tony rambled. 

   Clint nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

   “I’m sure this isn’t your first rodeo, given your line of work,” Tony stated. 

   “No. But it’s never been like this,” Clint admitted. 

   “Things got pretty dark for me after Afghanistan. So I know, to some degree, what it’s like. Not your exact situation, but I know how it feels to be hopeless. To feel guilt and like you want it to stop. I spent too long trying to drink away the anxiety and the trauma,” Tony said hesitantly. 

   There were very few people Tony openly talked to about his mental health struggles. It was hard for him to open up. But he knew Clint was in pain and that he needed help. Clint needed to know he wasn’t alone, and if opening up helped him then Tony was willing to try. 

   “I guess things haven’t been easy for anyone since New York,” Clint said. 

   “No. Not really,” Tony agreed. He paused for a moment. “Look, I’ve never been one for over- sentimentality and the whole ‘friendship makes everything better’ bullshit, but I will say this. We’ve all got each other’s backs, and as someone who’s worked alone most of my life, that actually feels pretty damn good.”

   “Yeah. It does,” Clint admitted. 

   Clint and Tony talked for a while longer. Tony told him a little bit about the PTSD he suffered after Afghanistan, his downward spiral, and some of the help he’d gotten.

   Clint soon found himself growing tired again, but he was fighting it. He knew he needed sleep, but he dreaded what would happen if he did. 

   “Hey. Get some rest, I’ll be right here,” Tony reassured him, seeing him struggling to stay awake. 

   Clint felt stupid, like some child that needed to be told they were safe to go asleep, that there were no monsters in the closet. Except in this case there were monsters and they were in his mind. 

   Despite his anxiety and inner turmoil, exhaustion won and he finally drifted back to sleep. 

   He woke hours later, fortunately not from a nightmare. Bruce was there. 

   “Hey. How are you doing?,” Bruce asked, seeing Clint was awake. 

   “I’m ok,” Clint replied, sitting up, stifling a groan. 

   “That’s good. It’s about six in the morning.”

   “That’s why. This is normally when I get up,” Clint replied. He knew he probably wouldn’t be getting back to sleep. 

   “Can’t beat our biological clocks,” Bruce said with a small smile.

   “I’m gonna get some coffee...I guess that’s allowed?,” Clint said uncertainly. 

   “Of course. This isn’t a prison,” Bruce reassured him. Clint needed to know that they were just observing him for his safety, they weren’t restricting his freedom. “Besides, I’ve seen you without coffee. We don’t want that.”

   Clint smiled slightly. It was true, he definitely had a coffee addiction. He was glad there wasn’t a caffeine restriction in place. Hell, caffeine might help him since he was so damn tired and depressed.  

   He and Bruce walked to the kitchen through the silent tower. He knew that Steve was out jogging, Natasha was in the gym, and Tony had probably just stumbled into bed recently. That’s usually how it worked. 

   Clint made himself a cup of coffee while Bruce made tea and the two sat at the table in the kitchen, drinking their beverages in silence. Bruce finally spoke up. 

   “They want you to meet with a therapist today,” Bruce said. 

   Clint sighed. “I figured.”

   “So you’re ok with that?”

   “I don’t really have a choice. Besides, I’d rather get it over with.”

   “You do have a choice,” Bruce said, “No one wants to force you into anything or take away your freedom.”

   “So I have a choice to not see a therapist?”

   “Well, it’s highly recommended you do. Even you have to admit you need to talk to someone.”

   “I haven’t had the best luck with therapists. I just don’t think talking about my feelings is going to help,” Clint said with a shrug. 

   He’d had to talk to a lot of people after being mind controlled before he was cleared to return to work. Obviously none of it had helped.  

   “How many therapists have you seen?,” Bruce asked.

   “A few,” Clint said with a shrug. Before being mind controlled there had been instances of torture and missions gone bad that had prompted SHIELD to make him see a therapist. It never lasted long.  

   Bruce nodded. “So you haven’t had the chance to try out different ones, find the right fit. That makes all the difference, finding the right therapist that you’re compatible with. You won’t make any progress if you’re seeing a therapist you don’t like or don’t work well with.”

   “You seem to know a lot about therapy. I thought you said you weren’t that kind of doctor,” Clint joked, trying to deflect.   

   “Let’s just say it’s firsthand experience. I’ve been where you are,” Bruce replied seriously. 

   “Mentally unstable after trying to throw yourself off a bridge because some asshole fucked up your mind?”

   “I’ve never been mind controlled, but I have a monster living inside me. I don’t like to talk about it, but things got dark for a while. I tried to find ways to end it, but he wouldn’t let me die. I finally tried shooting myself, but I transformed.”

   “I’m sorry. I had no idea,” Clint said surprised. He knew about Bruce’s struggles with the Hulk, but he seemed to have it pretty well under control compared to where he used to be. Bruce came across as a pretty calm and positive person despite his hardships.

   “It’s ok, not many people do. I’ve come a long way since then, partly because I found a therapist. It’s hard to find someone to talk to, and it might take a while, but you’ll find someone that gets you and can really help you,” Bruce replied. 

   “What if I can’t be helped? What if there’s no coming back from this?,” Clint asked, finally voicing his biggest worry. It was one of his fears, losing his mind. 

   “It won’t be easy, but I think you’ll come back from this,” Bruce said simply. “It might be something you struggle with for the rest of your life, but I think you can keep moving and live your life.”

   “I hope you’re right,” Clint replied, taking a sip of his drink. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Later that day Clint met with a therapist who was specially trained to deal with supernatural problems and had worked with SHIELD for a while. Clint didn’t find the session really helpful, and left frustrated. 

   “There’s a whole team of therapists that work for SHIELD, and each of them have their own techniques. We’ll keep trying until we find someone you like,” Bruce encouraged. 

   Clint nodded. He had an appointment with a psychiatrist the next day to talk about medications. He was dreading it. He had taken antidepressants in the past and they had helped somewhat, but they seemed like more of a pain than they were worth. 

   “Look, the medication is like finding a therapist. Trial and error. It sucks, but that’s the only way to find out which one works best with your body. What works for someone else might not work for you,” Bruce explained.

   “Yeah, it took some hits and misses to find something that actually helped me,” Tony said with a shrug. He had joined Clint and Bruce in the main living room to play video games. It was one of the ways Clint liked to de-stress. He was currently kicking Tony and Bruce’s ass. 

   “It also helped when you actually took the meds,” Bruce added, giving Tony a look. 

   “Yeah, well I’m good now. Haven’t missed a dose in months. I’m lucky if I remembered to eat and sleep, much less take medicine,” Tony said with a shrug. He cursed when Clint shot him, almost dropping the controller. 

   “I just hate the side effects. They mess with your head, make it hard to focus,” Clint said. 

   “Yeah, they suck. But you’ll eventually find something that doesn’t fuck you up and that works,” Tony replied. 

   “I know. This all...it just sucks,” Clint said in frustration. 

   “That’s why we’re here,” Tony said encouragingly. Then laughed loudly when Bruce shot Clint. 

   “Yeah, thanks,” Clint said snorting. He was beginning to have some hope he might be ok. Maybe. 

   A few days later he found that hope hard to hold on to. He had tried and failed with another therapist and even though multiple people reassured him that this was normal, it was still hard. Maybe his head was so messed up no one could help him.

   Not only that, but the medicine he was on was kicking his ass. He was tired and it felt like his head was buzzing with electricity. Apparently “brain zaps” were a normal side effect for some people, but it still freaked him out. Every time he shifted his eyes too sharply it felt like someone was rattling his brain. It made it hard to concentrate. He was supposed to see his doctor again the next day, but Clint knew he’d just tell him to give it time. 

   He had finally been turned loose from being watched constantly, at least. While it was nice to finally be alone, Clint also found it unnerving. The team still came by to check on him, always under the pretense of doing something else or happening to be nearby, but he was still left alone with his thoughts. 

   He didn’t want to kill himself, not really, but he still had thoughts about it. He couldn’t tell this to his therapist or doctor, or even the team. They’d lock him up for sure. He didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to live either. He wasn’t actively trying to off himself, but he wasn’t living either. Things felt foggy. His brain made no sense, and that scared him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Clint Barton Bingo Card](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/post/183483152992/im-excited-to-take-part-in-the-clint-barton-bingo)
> 
> ***If you're experiencing self-harm, depression, suicidal thoughts, mental illness, etc. Please please please reach out to someone. Someone you trust, family, friends, a doctor, an anonymous therapist, anyone who can help you. I promise you there are people who care about you.
> 
> [I'm on Tumblr!](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/)


	3. Could We Give This Some Room For a New Point of View?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint struggles with self harm as Bruce and Natasha try to help him. Clint finds himself frustrated by this most recent setback. Clint and Natasha talk about mind control and the Red Room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: Description of attempted suicide, descriptions of depression, somewhat graphic descriptions of self-harm (hence the "graphic descriptions of violence tag"), panic attacks, nightmares, and discussion of anti-depressants and therapy.
> 
> This chapter deals explicitly with cutting and self harm, so please be safe. 
> 
> As mentioned earlier, the main title (and chapter titles) are from the song "Neon Gravestones" by Twenty One Pilots. This is for the "missing scene" square on my Clint Barton bingo card.

   After several more days Clint was glad that he had finally found a therapist he worked well with. But the side effects of the medication still hadn’t really worn off and he found it so hard to focus. His emotions and thoughts were muddled. 

   That’s why he found himself that night with a razor. It had been easy to take it from the lab, he was an expert in sleight of hand, although he felt guilty as hell. He just  needed a release. He knew he wasn’t going to slit his wrists, he didn’t want to die, but he needed a way to control the pain. 

   He decided to use his legs. His arms would be too obvious, plus there was less of a chance of cutting too deep on his thighs than the thinner skin of his arms. He took a breathe and made the first cut, feeling the sting. 

   It wasn’t deep, but it was enough that he could feel with sharp sting and see the blood well to the surface. He felt that rush of adrenaline. 

   He made several more cuts on both legs, making sure not to cut too deep. He sat for a moment breathing. He felt better than he had in days, maybe because he finally felt something. But at the same time he felt a wave of anxiety and shame. He had fucked up. Maybe he deserved to be locked up.   

   With slightly shaking hands he disinfected the cuts on his legs and hid the razor. He’d get rid of it later. He wouldn’t tell anyone about this, he’d let the cuts heal and move on. He’d throw out the razor when he had the chance. 

   Except he didn’t. The next week he added more cuts to his legs. He had it under control, he told himself. It was just a way of coping. It wasn’t healthy, but neither was smoking or drinking. Right now he’d take whatever relief he could get. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   His doctor changed his medication after he couldn’t shake the side effects of the first. Clint was glad the brain zaps had stopped, but he felt flat. Like this medication wasn’t working. His head felt clearer and he had a little more energy, but he was still down.

   His therapist had given him some helpful tips, and he was learning cognitive behavioral therapy, but he wasn’t sure it would pay off in the long run. It had been a couple of weeks and he hadn’t really made a lot of progress.  

   Clint walked back to his room after a therapy session, dreading spending another mind-numbing afternoon trying to figure out what to do. He was surprised to find Natasha waiting in his living room. She looked serious. 

   “What’s going on?,” he asked uneasily. He had an idea. 

   “I know,” she said with her usual bluntness. 

   Clint cursed himself knowing that he had been too sloppy. She had probably seen the bloody tissues or bandages. His head had been too muddled to really cover his tracks well. Pretty bad for a spy.

   “I called Bruce, he should be down in a minute,” Natasha said. 

   “I should go back to the hospital,” Clint said resigned. This wasn’t fair to everyone else. They were trying to help him and he was going off and slashing himself up. 

   “That’s not going to happen. We said we’d help you and we’re going to,” Natasha said with determination. 

   “I don’t know if you can. I don’t know if I can be helped,” Clint replied. 

   Natasha sighed. “Quit being stupid and realize that you’re going to get through this. You have to trust us.”

   “I do. It’s myself I don’t trust.”

   “Then let us help you until you can trust yourself again.”

  There was a soft knock at the door and Bruce entered with a first aid bag.

   “Hey, sorry it took a minute to get down here. Tony almost burned the lab down again,” Bruce said as he tried to read the room. Natasha seemed pissed off, but he knew that was because she was worried, while Clint seemed anxious and understandably upset. Bruce knew Clint would view this as some kind of failure and feel like he had taken steps backwards. 

   “I guess the easiest way to do this is to be head on about it. Natasha told me that you’ve hurt yourself. Is that true?,” Bruce asked gently. 

   Clint took a deep breath. Saying it out loud felt wrong, but he couldn’t lie to Natasha and Bruce. He’d already done enough to cause them pain. “Yes. I cut myself.”

   “I need you to be honest with us. Are you feeling suicidal?,” Bruce asked. 

   “No. I just...I needed a release,” Clint explained. It was the truth;  while he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be alive, he also wasn’t wanting to die or kill himself. 

   Bruce nodded. “Where have you been cutting?” He noticed that Clint’s arms were clear. 

   “My legs,” Clint responded after a moment. 

   “I need to take a look,” Bruce said. 

   Clint nodded, and then found himself hesitating.

   “We can give you privacy,” Bruce offered, albeit slightly confused. He had never known Clint to be particularly modest, he constantly walked around in just boxers and a t-shirt. 

   “No, it’s not that,” Clint said waving a hand. 

   “What is it?,” Bruce asked gently.

   “I’ve never let anyone see.”

   Bruce nodded. Now he understood, Clint was ashamed. Bruce hated seeing all of the guilt and shame Clint carried with him. 

   “This isn’t anything to feel bad about,” Bruce began, “we all have our ways of coping. Some of them not so good. I’ve taken care of Tony after he’s gotten blackout drunk.”

   “Bruce helped me when I got pissed and punched through a wall,” Natasha added. 

   “Tony helped me when I got depressed after a bad Hulk-out and locked myself in my lab for days. We all have our things,” Bruce said, looking at Clint. “I’m not going to force you to let me look you over, but I would recommend seeing someone from medical. I just don’t want to risk an infection”

   Clint nodded after a moment. “I don’t want to go to medical. I trust you.”

   Clint slowly lowered the sweatpants he was wearing and pushed up the edges of his boxers slightly so Bruce could look. 

   Bruce kept his face neutral as he took in the dozens of red cuts on Clint’s thighs. Bruce knew they were new, the medical staff at the hospital would have told them if there had been evidence of Clint cutting.

   Fortunately none of the cuts looked deep or in need of stitches, and there weren’t any signs of infection. Bruce could see faint white scars of previous cuts. 

   “I want to go ahead and clean these just to be safe if that’s ok,” Bruce said, grabbing the bag he had brought. “They don’t look bad though.”

   “I make sure to disinfect everything,” Clint replied, not really making eye contact with Bruce or Natasha. 

   Bruce nodded, grabbing disinfectant and sterile gauze. “That’s good. And they’re not too deep. I’m assuming you’re caught up on your tetanus shots?”

   Natasha snorted. “At the rate he gets impaled?”

   Clint rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I’m caught up.”

   “You’re probably naturally immune to tetanus by now,” Natasha replied. 

   “Oh come on. I don’t get hurt that much,” Clint defended. 

   Natasha proceeded to list at least a dozen injuries in the past couple of years, before Clint stopped her. 

   “Ok, so I get hurt a lot. At least I haven’t gotten food poisoning on two separate missions,” Clint pointed out. 

   “Like that was my fault?,” Natasha replied. 

   “I told you not to eat the local fruit. But did you listen?”

   “It was hot out. And our intel said that fruit vendor was legit.”

   “Well you think you’d have learned after the first time.”

   “You ate fruit from a vendor in a third world country?,” Bruce asked, surprised. That was like rule number one when travelling, he’d know after being on the run in South America and India, and he’d figured Natasha would have common sense not to eat unsanitary food in a foreign country.  

   Natasha glared at him. “Our local operative said it was safe. And the second time wasn’t fruit. It was badly prepared sushi.”

   “Which I told you looked sketchy,” Clint replied. 

   “Need I remind you about what happened in Budapest?,” Natasha said with a smirk. 

   “Do I want to know?,” Bruce asked, seeing Clint’s expression. 

   “No, probably not,” Clint replied. 

   “Before this escalates into a full on blackmail session, let me finish up here,” Bruce said, amused. He enjoyed seeing Clint and Natasha’s dynamic. They gave each other hell, but anyone could see how close they were. 

   Bruce carefully cleaned the cuts, pausing when Clint flinched slightly at the sting on some of the slightly deeper ones. Natasha kept them both entertained with banter about some of their early missions. 

   “You good?,” Bruce asked, finishing up cleaning the cuts. 

   Clint nodded. “I’m good.”

   “I’m just going to put on some antibiotic ointment. I’ll leave some here when I’m done, just apply it twice a day and make sure to keep the cuts clean and dry,” Bruce explained. 

   Clint caught Natasha glancing at the angry red lines hacked across his skin as Bruce applied the antibiotic ointment. He could tell she was trying to make him and Bruce laugh to hide the fact that she was upset. Clint felt the familiar feeling of guilt creep in. 

   After Bruce left, Clint and Natasha sat in silence and he could sense the multiple emotions Natasha was dealing with. Clint was emotionally drained, all he wanted to do  was go to bed, but he needed to make this right. He owed that to Natasha after what he had put her through this past week. 

   “I’m sorry. I messed up,” Clint said after a moment. 

   Natasha looked at him. “You don’t have to apologize, I’m not mad, I just hate seeing you like this.”

   “Yeah, well, I know I messed up. Again.”

   “Now that it’s out in the open it’s something we can help you with. Something to work on,” Natasha replied. 

   “Great, I’ll add it to the list.”

   “Don’t be a smartass,” Natasha replied with a slight smile. 

   The two sat for a while, watching a nature documentary on the TV. Natasha finally spoke up again. “You do see the progress you’ve made right?”

   “Sure I’ve made some progress, like I’m not actively throwing myself off of bridges. It’s really only up from there I guess. But for all the steps forward I keep falling back,” Clint replied. Instead of sounding frustrated, he was matter-of-fact about it all, like he expected things to fail. It’s what they usually did in his life. 

   “It’s been less than two weeks,” Natasha pointed out. Clint had never been one for patience. 

   “It’s felt like a hell of a lot longer,” Clint stated. 

   Natasha could agree. It felt like a lifetime ago that Clint had stood on that bridge, not just a couple of weeks. She could only imagine what it felt like for Clint. “Just try not to be too hard on yourself.”

   Clint nodded. The two sat for a while longer before Clint asked, “What now?”

   “What do you mean?,” Natasha wondered. 

   “Am I on lockdown, not allowed near pointy objects?” Clint was worried that everyone would lose the little trust they had in him. He was afraid that now every move would be micromanaged and observed. Not that he would blame them since he was apparently a danger to himself. 

   Natasha sighed. “We all need to sit down and talk about it. We just want to keep you safe while you deal with things.” She knew how important freedom and independence was to Clint. They had to find a careful balance between managing his safety and allowing him to be independent. 

   “I know. It’s just so…,” Clint couldn’t finish his sentence. 

   How could he describe what he was going through? Words weren’t really enough. There was no one that really knew what he had gone through besides Erik Selvig, and last Clint had heard he had had a mental breakdown was in a psychiatric hospital. Not exactly encouraging. 

   Natasha knew, better than most, about mind control and manipulation. Clint was one of the few people that she had opened up to about the Red Room, but even then she still didn’t reveal everything. Clint knew how traumatic those experiences were for her, and he couldn’t ask her to dredge up all that trauma just so he’d have someone to talk to. 

   Natasha, carefully watching Clint’s expression, seemed to guess what he was thinking about. “We can talk about it you know.”

   “About what?”

   Natasha rolled her eyes. “Mind control, manipulation. You had asked me if I knew what it was like to have your head messed with, and I told you that I did.”

   “Nat, I don’t expect you to relive all of that just because…”

   “Shut up and listen for a minute,” Nat said, interrupting Clint. 

   Clint stopped talking and raised his eyebrows. Natasha continued. “I know what it’s like to have your mind taken from you and messed with. I know what it’s like to not feel in control of your own mind. I want to help you and talk to you. I can do that without completely delving into my past and bringing everything back.”

   “I don’t know. I just…”

   “No. We’re going to talk about this and you’re not going to worry. If things get too intense for either of us I’ll back off ok?,” Natasha reassured him. 

   Clint sat for a moment. He knew that Natasha was one of the few people who might have an idea of what he had gone through. He needed to trust her and know that she’d take care of herself and back off if she got too deep into her past. “Ok. Let’s talk.”

   “You know what I was like before I came to SHIELD, what I did.”

   Clint nodded. 

   “They spent years messing with my mind, telling me who to kill and what to think. I used to blame myself for not trying hard enough to fight back, to resist it. But I finally figured out that if someone is really after your mind there is no resisting. Sooner or later they’re going to break you down and get in,” Natasha explained.

   “But you didn’t kill your co-workers, your friends. I killed innocent people.”

   “So did I. You know, they made us fight each other. And sometimes it got ugly. I killed other girls in the Red Room.”

   “You did what you needed to do to survive,” Clint said. 

   “So did you.”

   “No, I wanted to do what he told me. There’s a difference.”

   “Did you enjoy it?,” Natasha asked. 

   “No, not really,” Clint replied with a shrug. 

   “There you go. I killed a lot of people, a lot of them innocent. But I can say that I didn’t enjoy it.”

   “Does it matter whether I enjoyed it or not? They’re still dead.”

   “Blaming yourself won’t bring them back,” Natasha pointed out. “There’s only one person responsible and it’s not you.”

   “You know what sucks. I cringe every time I hear his name. I can barely bring myself to say it,” Clint confessed. He had had to hear Loki’s name over and over in all of the meetings and briefings after the attack. He was sick of it. 

   “You know I have those names too,” Natasha replied. 

   Clint had been there on more than one occasion when names of officials of the Red Room were brought up. And while Natasha was able to keep a cool facade in public, Clint was there for her when she fell apart behind closed doors, when all of the horrific memories came rushing back.

   “I know. I just don’t know why this is messing me up so bad. I’ve been beaten, imprisoned, tortured. Sure it shook me up and took me a while to recover, but I always came back. This...this is different,” Clint said, sighing in frustration.

   “There’s your answer. I told you, we weren’t trained for this. It shouldn’t be our job to deal with magic and mind control. But we did, and we won. And you’re going to come back from this,” Natasha said, laying a hand on Clint’s shoulder. 

   As he looked her in the eyes and saw her determination he thought for the first time in a long time that maybe she was right. Maybe he could make it through this. It didn’t make the setbacks any less frustrating, but he had to keep going. If he gave up, then Loki won, and he’d be damned if he’d let that bastard win. 

   Clint and Natasha talked for another hour. Clint found himself getting tired, so they decided to watch a movie. They chose a stupid comedy they both liked and curled up on the couch, laughing at the ridiculous parts. Clint felt his eyes slowly drift closed, and was surprised to find that he wasn’t filled with a sense of dread like he had been lately when he fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Clint Barton Bingo Card](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/post/183483152992/im-excited-to-take-part-in-the-clint-barton-bingo)
> 
> ***If you're experiencing self-harm, depression, suicidal thoughts, mental illness, etc. Please please please reach out to someone. Someone you trust, family, friends, a doctor, an anonymous therapist, anyone who can help you. I promise you there are people who care about you.
> 
> [I'm on Tumblr!](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/)


	4. Beating A Stigma That No Longer Scares Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Steve talk about leadership and carrying around guilt. Clint uses archery as a way to relax and forget his problems. Thor talks to Clint about his guilt over what Loki did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update took longer than anticipated because of work and getting over being sick. But I finally got it done! 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: Description of attempted suicide, descriptions of depression, somewhat graphic descriptions of self-harm (hence the "graphic descriptions of violence tag"), panic attacks, nightmares, and discussion of anti-depressants and therapy.

   Clint took a deep breath, savoring the smell of coffee. He was sitting on one of the balconies with a cup of coffee enjoying the quiet morning. Therapy had had its ups and downs over the past few weeks. He had been seeing a second therapist suggested by SHIELD, a specialist in brainwashing and torture, and he had to admit it was helping. He was still seeing his regular therapist and psychiatrist, but having someone that understood how mind control worked that was able to explain the mechanics behind it (even though in this case it was technically magical) really helped. It also helped knowing that people had been through similar experiences and had come through it ok.

   Another good thing was that he was finally tolerating the medication. The initial side effects had finally worn off and lately he had been noticing that he had a little more energy and was able to focus more on things. His moods still kind of sucked, but his doctor told him to be patient, that it would take time for his moods to stabilize. 

   Patience had never been Clint’s strong suit, but he had to admit that even the small amount of progress he had made in the past few weeks felt like a lot. But he still had days where the events surrounding the attack on New York flashed through his mind no matter how hard he tried to stop them. 

   Clint knew it was going to be one of those days when he woke up that morning panicking, with images of the helicarrier running through his mind. He had decided to get some coffee and fresh air, hoping that maybe if he calmed down the guilt and panic would go away. 

   He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing, tried to push away the images of his fellow SHIELD agents bleeding out on the floor with arrows sticking out of them. Images of aliens, blue glowing lights, explosions, and blood.  

   “Mind if I join you?,” a voice asked softly, so as not to startle him. Clint looked to see Steve standing near the door. 

   Clint shrugged, “Sure.” 

   Steve grabbed a chair near him and they both sat in silence for a while. Clint finally spoke up.

   “Did JARVIS send you out here?” 

   He figured Tony had all of the possible jumping points monitored, but he hadn’t really thought about that when he had chosen to sit on the balcony. 

   “No, I was already up. I was leaving the gym and noticed you were out here,” Steve explained, feigning nonchalance. 

   For a super soldier Steve wasn’t a great liar. Clint knew that Steve, and the entire team really, had been checking on him. Clint had always valued his independence and privacy, so it surprised him that he didn’t mind his team’s concern, that it actually made him feel valued. He had thought having people worried about his every move would be annoying, but it really just emphasized how much they cared about him. But it also made him feel guilty about what he put them through. 

   “You don’t have to worry, I was just enjoying the morning,” Clint replied, not wanting Steve to think he was contemplating throwing himself off the building. 

   “I know, I just figured I’d come and see how you were doing,” Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee. “I can go if you want some alone time, I just wanted to check in.”

   “No you’re good,” Clint replied. 

   Steve nodded. He was still getting used to leading the team, and was torn between wanting to be helpful but also not wanting to push people away. He knew Clint was an intensely independent person, they all were really, and knew that he needed to be careful not to push too hard.

   But he also knew Clint needed support right now. He didn’t want his insecurities as a leader to affect Clint. Steve knew he and the team could really help him if they did things right. 

   “I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, but I still have nightmares. I understand that part,” Steve said. 

   “Really?,” Clint said with mild surprise. 

   Honestly he shouldn’t be surprised, it made sense since Steve had been through a lot. But Captain America wasn’t someone you imagined having nightmares. Clint had to remember that Steve, despite being a super soldier, was just a guy. Hell, Steve was technically younger than he was.  

   “I have nightmares about the plane and the ice, the war, but the worst are about Bucky. He was my best friend and I couldn’t save him,” Steve admitted. 

   “But you didn’t kill him,” Clint replied. 

   He knew the basics about what had happened before Steve went under the ice. Steve may feel guilty about not saving people, but at least he didn’t have the guilt of knowing good people died at his hands. 

   “I may as well have. He died helping me and he died because I wasn’t fast enough. I kept thinking after, maybe if I had worked harder I could have reached him faster. Or about that fact that I shouldn’t have involved him to begin with.”

   “From what I’ve read, I don’t think you could have convinced him to stay behind,” Clint replied.

   From what he had learned at SHIELD, Sergeant Barnes didn’t seem like the type to let his closest friend go into danger alone, super soldier serum be damned.  

   Steve smiled. “No, you’re right about that. But I’ve lived with the guilt ever since, and no matter how many times I tell myself it wasn’t my fault, it still feels like it is.”

   “So what do you do about it?,” Clint asked, knowing the feeling well. 

   Steve shrugged. “I keep going. Me feeling guilty isn’t going to bring Bucky back, plus I know he wouldn’t want me to blame myself. It doesn’t really make it easier, but it helps sometimes.”

   Clint nodded. “Logically I know it wasn’t my fault, that I was being mind controlled or whatever. But I feel like I should have been able to resist it, or fight harder against it. I should have been ready, I’ve been trained in this.”

   “In magical scepter mind control?,” Steve asked, “I know SHIELD is thorough, but…”

   Clint rolled his eyes, smiling slightly, “No smartass, not that specific scenario. But I’ve been trained in psychology, brainwashing, torture, and manipulation. Hell, I’ve had personal experience.”

   Clint had been tortured before, basic stuff that hadn’t left any permanent injuries. It would take him a while to recover mentally, but he always bounced back.

   “Clint, I know what it’s like to live with guilt. I feel responsible for so much that happened. Coulson’s death, all the deaths and injuries in New York. I should have been a better leader, if we had all been on the same page instead of fighting among ourselves then maybe things would have gone differently.”

   Steve knew that Loki had played them and used their discord to his advantage. 

   “You can’t blame yourself for all of New York,” Clint replied. 

   He was slightly surprised. Steve always seemed confident; Clint knew he probably had his self-doubts, but he wouldn’t have thought it was to this degree. 

   “It’s like you said, logically I know it’s not my fault, we know whose fault it is, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling like I could have done more. And I know I’m not the only one,” Steve stated. 

   “Really?” 

   Clint had trouble picturing Tony Stark and Thor wracked with self-doubt and guilt, but then again he knew they, like everyone on the team, kept a lot to themselves. 

   The more Clint had gotten to know Tony, the more he realized that he put on an act for the world. There was a lot more to Tony Stark than he let the world believe. He had talked to Thor as much, since he had returned to Asgard, but it seemed like the same thing. Beneath the arrogant and cocky exterior both men were generous and empathetic. They just didn’t want to advertise it. 

   “I just want you to know that you’re not alone,” Steve said simply. “ I know it’s easier said than done, but you don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

   “I know. I appreciate it. It’s just easy to let yourself get wrapped up in what you’re feeling and forget that everyone around you is dealing with the same things.”

   “None of us went through exactly what you did, but we’re here for you. We’re still working on being a team, and I’m still working on leading, but we’re in it together,” Steve replied.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Later, Clint found himself in the gym with his bow. He hadn’t shot in weeks and found himself longing to practice. He set up a target and leisurely fired arrows, slowly warming up. He was a little rusty, but not as bad as he had expected after taking a few weeks off.  

   He found himself thinking about him and Barney spending their afternoons outside the circus shooting and seeing who could do the best tricks. They would attempt to bounce arrows off nearby objects or shoot at weird angles. He couldn’t remember the last time he had shot for fun. 

   Ever since he had joined SHIELD, shooting had been part of his training regimen- he knew if he wasn’t good enough he or his teammates could die. That was how he had gotten so good, he had always pushed himself. But in the process he had lost some of the joy archery used to bring him. 

   With nothing better to do Clint tried to recreate some of the trickshots he and Barney had created. He lost track of time as he set up various dummies and tables and sent arrows ricocheting around the gym into the target. 

   He had taken one shot from the floor sending the arrow bouncing off of a dummy, flipping over a table into the target, when he heard a laugh. He turned to see Natasha. 

   “Never seen that move before,” she said with amusement. 

   “Yeah, not the most intimidating,” Clint replied, standing up. “A holdout from my circus days.”

   “I don’t know, I feel like if you ping ponged arrows off buildings into targets a lot of people would be impressed.”

   “Fury would be so pissed,” Clint said laughing. 

   “All the more reason.”

   “Yeah, I try to keep the showboating to a minimum in the field.”

   “You should show off every now and then,” Natasha replied, shrugging. She had been known to take people down dramatically when she was bored. 

   “I’ll keep that in mind,” Clint said.

   “It’s time for dinner. Thor’s here, so if you want to eat I’d get moving. There might not be anything left if you take too long.”

   “I’ll pack up then,” Clint said snorting. 

   He hadn’t realized how late it was. It had been a long time since he had actually had fun shooting. Usually he was consumed with getting the shots right and finding ways to improve.  

   “What’s Thor doing here?,” Clint asked. 

   He pushed back the worry that maybe something was wrong, that Loki had escaped and was coming for them. 

   “He wanted to update us on how things were going on Asgard,” Natasha explained. “Do you think you’ll be ok? We can eat dinner in my room.”

   “I’ll be fine. I need to hear this,” Clint said after a moment. 

   Natasha watched him for a second, then nodded. “Honestly I think Thor just wants to talk to us. It seems like he’s been taking it all pretty hard from what I’ve heard.”

   “Well, let’s go to dinner then,” Clint said as he finished packing up his bow. 

   Thor had kept his distance from Clint after New York, feeling guilty about what his brother had done. Clint and the rest of the team had tried to reassure Thor that there were no hard feelings, but he had needed to return to Asgard before everyone really had a chance to talk. Clint knew they all needed to do what they could to make sure Thor knew he was part of the team. 

   Clint and Natasha joined everyone in the dining room where Steve and Bruce had cooked dinner and were finishing setting everything on the table. Tony had finally emerged from his lab. Clint knew he was trying to work on the final repairs of the tower and was trying to improve his armor against future attacks. Fortunately Pepper and Bruce were making sure he slept, ate, and had social interaction instead of obsessively working himself into the ground like he had done for years.  

   The six of them ate dinner and caught up on how everyone was doing (although the topics of Loki and Clint’s suicide attempt were avoided). As they laughed and joked Clint was surprised to realize he viewed them as a group of friends. In reality they were six broken, but powerful, individuals who were forced to work together to save the world. But since New York they had grown more comfortable with each other and Clint felt the environment shifting from unsteady team dynamics to the comfortable vibes of friends and roommates. 

   As everyone worked together to clear the table and clean up Thor approached Clint with slight uncertainty. 

   “Clint, I was wondering if we might speak for a moment.”

   Clint nodded.  “Do you want to go outside?”

   “Yes, that would be good,” Thor replied. 

   The two stepped out into the cool air, taking in the last light of the evening sky as lights began to come on around the city. 

   “I am not one to dance around things, I have been told many times that I am too brash. But I know you value directness as well,” Thor began. 

   Clint nodded, knowing where this was going, but knowing that they needed to talk. 

   “I learned about your attempt to take your own life, and knew I needed to speak with you. I should have done so after the battle, but I was preoccupied with returning the Tesseract and Loki to Asgard. I apologize for that.”

   “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Clint replied. “We were all busy with cleanup and dealing with the aftermath.”

   “Even so,  I do have much to apologize for. It is my fault that Earth was attacked and that you were controlled by the scepter. Therefore it is my fault that you almost took your own life…”

   “Thor, just stop. None of this is your fault! You weren’t the one who tried to conquer Earth. You fought beside us!”

   “It is true, I did not try to conquer Earth. But my interference on Earth is what led Loki to try to destroy it out of malice. That and my inability to deal with him,” Thor said sadly. “I should have known to keep a watchful eye on this planet, because I know that Loki’s wrath has no bounds.”

   “You didn’t even know he was alive. You had no way of knowing what he was planning. Besides, and trust me on this, you can’t be held accountable for your dumbass brother’s actions.”

   “Agent Coulson is dead because of me. I did not know him well, but I could tell he was a good man. If I had not fallen for Loki’s tricks yet again he would be alive. He died trying to save me,” Thor finally blurted out. 

   It had been on his mind ever since the battle, because he knew that Clint, Natasha, and Coulson were close. Loki’s taunt still echoed in his mind- “Are you ever  _ not _ going to fall for that?” And it was true- if Thor hadn’t continued falling for Loki’s tricks, then the invasion wouldn’t have happened, Coulson would be alive, and Clint wouldn’t have tried to kill himself. 

   “I know there is nothing I can do to change what happened,” Thor continued after a moment, “and I know it will do me no good to let guilt consume myself. All I can do is make sure Loki faces justice for his actions.”

   “Yeah, how’s that going?,” Clint asked, sensing Thor’s tension. Clint made a living reading people, and he considered himself pretty good at it. He could tell Thor was upset and conflicted. 

   “The Allfather, Odin, is convening a council to determine Loki’s fate. His punishment could be anything from life imprisonment to execution. He is being held in the dungeons at the moment,” Thor explained, trying to sound neutral but failing to conceal his concern.

   This should have made Clint feel better. Loki was in prison, and would be for the rest of his life if he wasn’t executed. But Clint was surprised to realize that he didn’t want Loki dead. Loki being dead wouldn’t bring anyone back, it wouldn’t fix the city, and it wouldn’t give him closure. 

   Clint had been holding onto the thought in the back of his mind that if Loki died it would fix things. He would feel justice and wouldn’t have to worry about Loki ever messing with his head again. But Clint knew that Loki being executed would crush Thor and it wouldn’t make him feel better. 

   “Look, what Loki did to me...it was unforgivable. But I don’t want him dead, that’s not going to fix things. I seriously doubt they’re going to execute him since he’s the son of the king. That’s got to count for something,” Clint suggested. 

   “The adopted son, but I believe you’re right. I hope so. Despite his crimes, I don’t wish to see Loki harmed. But I do want him to face the consequences for his actions. And yet I still care for him,” Thor said sighing in frustration. 

   “It’s a bitch isn’t it? Having a criminal brother.”  

   Thor nodded. “Despite everything he has done and all my anger toward him, Loki is still a brother to me. And yet I see all the pain he caused everyone and wonder how I can still care for him.”

   “Look, I get it. I have an older brother, I don’t really talk about him a lot, but we’ve had our ups and downs. He’s done some pretty shitty things, but he’s still my brother.”

   “I am glad you understand. It still does not take away the guilt I feel about what Loki did to you and what happened after,” Thor replied.

   “Look, to be honest, my mental breakdown or whatever you want to call it, it’s probably been a long time coming. Everything with Loki, it just pushed me over the edge. But I was pretty close to the edge to begin with.” 

   It had taken Clint a while to figure this out and admit it. All of the traumas had been steadily building over the years and he’d just pushed it all away and ignored it. If it hadn’t been Loki it would have been something else that caused him to hit the breaking point. 

   “I am sorry to hear that,” Thor replied sincerely. “I know that you will pull through this, but I still hate to see you suffer.”

   “I’m starting to do better. I’m not one hundred percent there yet, but I’m working on it. I’m a hell of a lot better than I was a couple weeks ago, that’s for sure.”

   “I am glad to hear that,” Thor replied, smiling for the first time since they had started the conversation. 

   Thor and Clint talked for a while longer, promising to talk again when Thor made a return trip to Earth in a few weeks. Clint would keep Thor updated on how he was doing, and Thor would keep him and the rest of the team updated on what was happening on Asgard with Loki. 

   Later that night as Clint sat watching a movie with Natasha he noticed that he felt like a burden had been lifted off of him. He had been channeling all his anger at Loki, but realizing that he didn’t want revenge on Loki or want him to die made Clint feel better. He wanted justice and a fair punishment for his actions, but he was relieved to find the sense of anger and hostility that had been growing inside him gone.

   Things with Loki would be taken care of, his relationship with Thor was good, and his team was by his side. He could keep moving on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Clint Barton Bingo Card](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/post/183483152992/im-excited-to-take-part-in-the-clint-barton-bingo)
> 
> After this there will be one more chapter and then a bonus chapter. The bonus chapter is an alternate beginning because I had two ideas for how to write the beginning of the story and liked them both. 
> 
> Also, I saw Captain Marvel last night and it was awesome!
> 
> [I'm on Tumblr!](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/)


	5. To Life They Were Dedicated, Now That Should Be Celebrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint faces the one year anniversary of when he was mind controlled and thinks about the future. Tony throws a party. The team has a surprise for Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter!!! 
> 
> This is my first square for my Clint Barton bingo card: "missing scene." This fills in the time after The Avengers before Age of Ultron. 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: Description of attempted suicide, descriptions of depression, somewhat graphic descriptions of self-harm (hence the "graphic descriptions of violence tag"), panic attacks, nightmares, and discussion of anti-depressants and therapy.

   Clint Barton stood looking at the calendar on the wall. He normally didn’t give any thought to bad anniversaries, he had plenty of them, and he normally didn’t stand there staring dramatically at the date on the calendar. But this anniversary was hitting harder than others: it had been one year since he had been mind controlled by Loki. 

   Everyone was gearing up to celebrate their first year as a team and their victory in the battle for New York, and Clint was trying to join in the festivities and let himself forget about the past as much as possible. 

   It had been almost seven months since he had tried to commit suicide, and while there had been ups and downs he was doing a lot better. He wasn’t perfect, he still struggled some days and had nightmares, but things were surprisingly pretty good. Just last week the team had decided to take an outing to the zoo (Steve’s idea) and he had been surprised by how much fun they all had. 

   He had been enjoying the day, looking at all the animals and joking around with his team, when he had a sudden realization. He looked around and realized he was happy. For the first time in a very long time he had had a good day with no depression, no guilt, and no anxiety. He was able to simply enjoy it, to look around and take all the details in that he had taken for granted while he had been in the dark fog of depression. 

   It was in this moment he knew he was going to be ok. He might have dark days, but he could still have good days, and those good days would counter all the bad ones.  A year ago he had thought he would never be able to smile or have a simple fun day again. 

   Clint took a deep breath, remembering all the good feelings from that day. Tony was throwing a party that day in celebration of their victory in New York and Clint was going to attend. He was nervous, he hadn’t been to a party in over a year, but he knew he needed to do it. He needed to be with his team on this day and he needed to celebrate the good in addition to remembering the bad. 

   He had been worried the last week that this anniversary might cause him to regress. He was afraid of giving into the fear and darkness associated with the date and losing the progress he had made. The team had seemed to sense his fear and had made their presence known the last week. Clint knew Tony had purposefully chosen to have his party today instead of the actual day of the battle of New York (which had taken place a few days after he had been taken). Tony, and the whole team, wanted to Clint to have a reason to celebrate. So he would, because he did have a lot to celebrate despite all of the hardships of the past year. 

   He looked up when he heard a knock on the door. 

   “Come in Natasha,” he said needlessly, since she was already halfway through the door. 

   “You almost ready?,” she asked. 

   “Yeah, this is about as good as it’s gonna get,” Clint said smiling.

   It was a casual party, like most of the many parties Tony threw. He was wearing jeans and a purple button down shirt. Natasha was wearing a black dress with deep red leggings. 

   Natasha shrugged. “You clean up pretty good Barton.”

   “I know. I even ironed my shirt.”

   “ _ You  _ ironed your shirt?,” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow. 

   “Ok, Bruce helped me iron my shirt.”

   “That sounds more like it.”

   “What? You don’t think I’m capable of doing basic adulty things?,” Clint asked, pretending to be offended. 

   “Well, last time you tried to iron a shirt on a mission you burned a hole through it and almost burned down the safehouse. So I’m going with a no.”

   “Ok, I can do adulty things under adult supervision.”

   Natasha laughed as Clint smiled. She had missed their banter and Clint’s grins. She had been thrilled to see both return in the past few months. 

   “Alright, let’s go down there before before Thor hits the bar and drinks everything,” Natasha said, headed to the door. 

   “He can’t even get drunk on normal alcohol. I don’t know why he insists on drinking all the beer,” Clint grumbled, following Natasha down to the common area where Tony was having the party. 

   It was a pretty small gathering, with only the team and close friends. Pepper had decorated the room in the team’s colors: red, gold, silver, black, purple, blue, white, and  green. There was some music playing as people stood around the room holding conversations. Tony was at the bar mixing drinks, Steve was standing by the window talking to Maria Hill and Nick Fury, and Bruce was sitting in a chair chatting with Pepper. 

   Clint spied Thor near the bar, about to open a beer. Nope.  

   Thor was about to pop the cap off of his third beer when a coaster came flying across the room, knocking the beer out of his hand onto the padded bar chair in front of him. He looked around confused until he saw Clint smirking and heading in his direction.  

   “Excellent aim,” Thor said laughing. He picked up the beer and handed it to Clint. 

   “I’d give that a second. As much as I’d love to see it blow up in your face, I just had these seats redone,” Tony said to Clint as he mixed a daquiri for Natasha. 

   “May I have another beer Stark?,” Thor asked. 

   “You’re costing me a fortune in alcohol Point Break. And that’s coming from me,” Tony said handing Natasha her drink while simultaneously grabbing Thor a beer. 

   “I think you missed your calling as a bartender,” Clint said impressed. 

   Tony shrugged. “You drink enough alcohol and go to enough parties you pick up a few tricks.”

   “Another!,” Thor yelled, tossing the empty beer bottle into a trashcan where it shattered. 

   “Seriously!,” Tony shouted. 

   “I made sure to put it in the proper receptacle,” Thor pointed out. 

   “Look, you gotta save some beer for everyone else. Mainly me,” Clint said, carefully opening his beer.

   “Weren’t you supposed to be bringing some of your Asgardian mead or whatever?,” Tony said, handing Thor another beer. 

   “I had wanted to, but I have been unable to return to Asgard for the past couple of weeks. Without the bifrost travel between the realms is very difficult, so I have been taking care of Asgardian diplomatic matters on Earth for the time being,” Thor explained, draining half his beer in one gulp. 

   “You’re going to be able to return to Asgard at some point right?,” Tony asked.  

   “I should be able to return next week. I had hoped to see Jane before I returned, but she is not due back home for several more weeks,” Thor said sadly.

   He was glad agent Coulson had been able to hide Jane, but he wished she hadn’t been sent so far away. He knew when he returned to Asgard this time he would have to remain there for a while, and wasn’t sure when he’d get to see her. 

   “Any news from Odin?,” Natasha asked. She knew Thor had ways of communicating with Asgard even when he was on Earth. 

   “The realms are in some chaos, which is why I plan to return soon. Nothing the Allfather cannot handle, but I am anxious to lend a hand to his efforts. Loki’s formal hearing will be soon,” Thor said. 

   “Any idea how that’s going to go?,” Tony asked. 

   He knew a lot of people wanted Loki held accountable. And he knew it might give Clint some more closure. He knew Clint had made a lot of progress, but Loki was still a tough subject for him.

   “Speaking with the Allfather, I have learned he anticipates to keep him imprisoned. Possibly indefinitely,” Thor said with a touch of sadness. 

   He knew it was what Loki deserved, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt knowing his brother could spend the rest of his life in a cell. He should be grateful that Loki would not be executed for his many crimes against the realms. 

   “I’m sorry you’re having to go through this Thor,” Clint said, thinking of his own Brother. 

   “I appreciate it Clint. But I know you deserve to see justice served for what was done to you. And I am glad to know that will happen,” Thor replied sincerely. 

   “That doesn’t mean it’s not hard on you,” Natasha pointed out to Thor. 

   “It is very difficult. He is my brother despite all that had occurred, but I believe it is best for everyone if he is detained. There is no telling what he would do if released. I hope that in time he will come to learn that his actions were wrong and try to improve himself. But I know that is a longshot,” Thor said sadly. 

   “Well, you never know. People change,” Natasha said seriously. She of all people knew. 

   “That is my hope. For now I can simply take some joy in the fact that my brother is alive,” Thor replied. “That and the fact that Midgard is safe and my friends are well.” Thor held up his beer in a toast. 

   “What are we toasting to?,” Steve asked, joining them along with Bruce. 

   “To the Avengers,” Tony said, with a small smile. The team name had grown on him.

   “To the Avengers,” everyone else replied, holding up their glasses. 

   Clint smiled as he took a long drink of his drink,  knowing this is really what he needed. Good beer, music, friends, and something bigger than himself to be apart of. All of those convinced him the future would be ok and it was worth living for. 

   Later, the team stood on the balcony that evening watching the fireworks display Tony had created. Clint took in the vibrant colors against the night sky. It was hard to believe that on a night like this only seven months ago he had tried to jump off a bridge.  

   He figured that’s how depression worked, it seemed inescapable while you were dealing with it, but when you escaped you could look back with clarity. He was just glad he had been able to escape, and knew it wouldn’t have been possible without his friends and teammates. 

   “I have something for you,” Natasha said, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him towards the other end of the balcony. 

   “Should I be worried? Last time you said you ‘had something for me’ you punched me,” Clint joked. 

   “You probably deserved it,” Tony said, stepping over next to Clint. 

   “He did,” Natasha replied. 

   “Well, I don’t feel like being beaten up tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

   “That could be arranged,” Tony replied smirking. 

   “This is a gift from all of us,” Steve said, stepping in. “We know that it’s been a hard year, and we’re so happy about the progress you’ve made. Se we got you something.”

   Natasha stepped in a nearby door and came out a minute later holding a purple leash. She handed it to Clint. 

   “What am I supposed to do with this?,” Clint asked, confused. But he felt a glimmer of excitement. 

   Natasha smiled, seeing his excitement. She whistled and a yellow lab came running out into the balcony. 

   “Meet Lucky,” Natasha said as Clint laughed, scratching the dog behind his ears. 

   “Is he eating pizza?,” Bruce asked, noting the slice locked between Lucky’s jaws. 

   “It sure looks that way,” Steve said laughing. 

   “Shit, my pizza!,” Tony yelped, running inside. 

   “A dog who likes pizza. I think we’re gonna get along just fine,” Clint said laughing as Lucky scarfed down the slice. 

   “He’s all yours,” Natasha stated, putting a hand on Clint’s shoulder. 

   “Thank you,” Clint said, fighting the tears in his eyes. He hadn’t received a lot of gifts in his life, but this was definitely the best. 

   Before Loki, he had been thinking about getting a dog. But after being mind-controlled and falling into a deep depression he had given up on that dream. 

   “I love him. Thank you all so much, for everything,” Clint said, laughing as Lucky licked away his tears. “Thanks pizza dog.”

   They were definitely happy tears as he took in his team (Tony had rejoined them, eating a piece of pizza and glaring at Lucky). He petted the fur of his new best friend surrounded by the people he cared about most, people who had helped him through the  darkest time in his life, and he was filled with gratitude. He had faced death and, with the help of his friends, had chosen life. Now he was looking forward to the future and the joys it was sure to hold.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky the Pizza Dog cameo! I tried to make Clint a mix between Movie Clint and Human Disaster™ Comic Book Clint. 
> 
> That's it! I am going to post one more chapter, but it's an alternate beginning to the story. I had two different possibilities for how the story started, and I like both so I'm going to post the other as a bonus chapter. 
> 
> As far as timeline is concerned, this is before Thor: The Dark World, but ignoring Iron Man 3 (or pushing the events later). It also assumes Thor could make a trip or two back to Midgard between the Avengers and The Dark World (but is still unable to see Jane). 
> 
> My next square on my bingo card is "trapped" so I'll be posting that this week.
> 
> [Clint Barton Bingo Card](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/post/183483152992/im-excited-to-take-part-in-the-clint-barton-bingo)
> 
> [I'm on Tumblr!](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/)


	6. Bonus: Neon Gravestones Try to Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate beginning to the story because I had two possible beginnings. Natasha is out of the country on a mission and gets a call that Clint had tried to jump off a bridge and was in the hospital. She asks Steve to pick him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the original beginning that had made me come up with the story. I pictured Steve picking Clint up from a mental hospital after he had been found about to jump off a bridge. Later, I decided I wanted to start the story in the middle of the action, but I still liked this beginning and wanted to write it as a bonus chapter. 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: Description of attempted suicide, descriptions of depression, somewhat graphic descriptions of self-harm (hence the "graphic descriptions of violence tag"), panic attacks, nightmares, and discussion of anti-depressants and therapy.

   Steve Rogers stood just inside the door, hesitating. Hesitation was not something he normally had to deal with, he was usually the first one to charge in and liked to meet situations head on. Nonetheless, he found himself taking a moment before approaching the desk. This was something unfamiliar to him, something he was not sure he was capable of dealing with. But he had made a promise. 

   He slowly approached the desk and addressed the guy behind it. 

   “I’m here to pick someone up,” he stated. 

   “Name?”

   “Mine or his?,” Steve asked. 

   “I know who you are,” the guy replied with a slight smile. 

   Right. Steve still had trouble getting over the fact that the world knew who he was. He had had some fame during the 40’s, but it was nowhere near the scale it was now. Thanks to technology Steve was recognized everywhere he went. People mostly kept a respectful distance, and he didn’t have to deal with photographers and tabloids (probably thanks to Tony), but it was still a weird sensation. 

   He had been in a coffee shop recently and had been surprised to hear “Steve” shouted out when the cashier had never asked his name.

   “Right, sorry. I’m here for Clint Barton,” Steve said, focusing on the task at hand. 

   “That makes sense,” the man said, typing on his computer. “You’re teammates right?”

   “Yeah. It’s pretty new...but we’re a team,” Steve replied, nodding. “How’s he doing?”

   “I’m not sure, I only deal with the front desk stuff, but someone will definitely talk to you before you head back. We have a great group of people here, so I’m sure he’s doing ok,” the man replied kindly. 

   “Of course, sorry. It’s been a long day,” Steve said. 

   “I understand. Someone should be out in a minute to talk to you.”

   “Thanks,” Steve said, taking a nearby seat. 

   Steve took a deep breath. It really had been a long twenty four hours. He had been woken up around 3am with a call from Natasha. 

   “Clint tried to commit suicide,” she stated, a sense of panic lurking just beneath the calm. “They found him on a bridge an hour ago about to jump. The hospital called me since I’m his next of kin.”

   Steve took a moment to process things, then finally spoke up. 

   “What do we need to do?,” he asked. 

   He pushed aside any guilt at missing the signs or not spending enough time with the team. Clint was alive, that was all that mattered. They could help him. 

   “They want to hold him for at least 24 hours. After that, if he’s stable, someone will need to pick him up,” Natasha said.

   It couldn’t be her because she was on a mission halfway around the world right now. And it was killing her. She had reluctantly agreed to take the mission because no one else was available, and now she couldn’t be there for Clint when he needed her the most. 

   “We’ll get him,” Steve said. 

   “I know. It’s just….I hate not being there,” Natasha said, struggling to control her emotions. 

   “We’ll take good care of him Natasha. I promise,” Steve assured her. 

   Natasha nodded. “I’m going to get back as soon as possible.”

   Natasha told Steve what hospital Cint was at and that she had explained the situation to them and given them Steve’s number. 

   “They should be calling you within the next six hours,” Natasha said. “They won’t let me talk to him, they said it’s protocol.”

   “I’m sorry Natasha,” Steve replied sadly. He knew it was killing her to not only be so far away, but not be able to talk to Clint. 

   Natasha shrugged, “There isn’t anything we can do except be there for him.”

   Steve ended the call and went down to Tony’s lab, he was still awake, and filled him in on the situation. The two decided to fill Bruce in later when he woke up. 

   Steve had gotten a call about five hours later filling Steve in on Clint’s condition (stable, with minor injuries from where he had been grabbed and shoved to the ground before he could jump) and when he could come pick him up.

   Steve had texted the details to Natasha and went for a long run, trying to clear his mind. There were so many emotions running through his head- guilt at not being a good enough friend, anger at Loki for what he had done, sadness at what Clint was going through, and fear that he wasn’t a strong enough leader to deal with this. 

   Tony had wanted to come, but Bruce had pointed out it would be better if just Steve went, so they didn’t overwhelm Clint. Tony had finally agreed and set about getting the tower ready for Clint’s arrival. 

   The day had crept by until Steve found himself at the doors of the hospital, slowly making his way up to the mental health floor, and wondering what he was going to say to Clint. 

   “Mr. Rogers?”

   Steve looked up, startled out of his remembrances of the previous day. 

   “If you’ll follow me,” a woman said, gesturing towards the door. 

   He followed her down a long hallway to a small conference room where he was bombarded with details about Clint’s condition, treatment plans, and precautions to take at home. 

   “I know that this is a lot to take in,” the woman said. “Please let me know if you have any questions.”

   “I um...I don’t think I have any right now,” Steve replied. 

   “Feel free to give us a call if you have any questions or if anything comes up. There’s someone here 24/7,” the woman said, handing him a card. 

   “Thanks,” he said, adding it to the pile of paperwork he had been given.

   “I’ll just need you to sign some forms and then we’ll get Mr. Barton on his way,” the woman said, guiding Steve through signing various release forms. 

   “Is he still…? I mean, does he still want to…?,” Steve asked awkwardly. 

   “Mr. Barton is no longer suicidal, and we don’t believe he’s a high suicide risk at the moment or we wouldn’t be releasing him,” the woman reassured him. “But he’s very depressed and he has a long way to go in his recovery. He’s going to need a lot of support in the coming months.”

   “Of course, we’re going to be there for him,” Steve replied. “We’ll do whatever it takes.”

   “It’ll definitely help Mr. Barton being somewhere comfortable with people he knows and trusts.”

   Steve followed the woman down the hall to what was presumably Clint’s room and stood behind her as she knocked. 

   “Mr. Barton, you have someone here for you,” she said opening the door and gesturing Steve to enter. 

   Steve walked past her into the room and heard the door lightly close behind him. Clint was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing a  pair of thin green scrubs and hospital socks. He had some scrapes and bruising, and was favoring his side (Steve remembered bruised ribs being on the list of minor injuries Clint had). There were dark circles under Clint’s eyes. 

   “Hey Clint,” Steve said in greeting. 

   Clint attempted to smile. “Hey man. Natasha send you to bail me out?”

   Steve smiled sadly. He could tell Clint was making an effort to joke around and act like he was ok. 

   “Yeah. She should be back in the next 12 hours.”

   “She’s gonna be so pissed,” Clint said, standing up with a groan. 

   “She’s worried. We all are,” Steve replied, handing Clint the bag that presumably contained his clothes. 

   “I know. I’m just….” Clint sighed. He didn’t know how the hell to describe what was going on. And he sure as hell didn’t know how to even begin apologizing for what he had done. 

   “We’re here for you. All of us. Bruce and Tony are waiting at the tower, Natasha’s going to back soon. We’ll all get through this together,” Steve said, putting a hand on Clint’s shoulder. 

   “Ok,” Clint replied after a moment. 

   He wasn’t entirely convinced he was going to get through this. It felt impossible. But he knew he had to try, and that if he had any chance of making it through it was with his friends by his side. 

   Steve nodded. “Let’s get you home to the tower.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally done! Thanks to anyone who read the story! I'm hoping to get my second square for my Clint Barton bingo card ("trapped") up in the next couple of days. 
> 
> [Clint Barton Bingo Card](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/post/183483152992/im-excited-to-take-part-in-the-clint-barton-bingo)
> 
> [I'm on Tumblr!](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/)


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